


outside I'm masquerading (inside my hope is fading)

by huntinglily



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst and Romance, Betrayal, Blood and Injury, Clexa, Death, Death Threats, F/F, Guilt, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Insomnia, Minor Character Death, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-18
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-21 10:19:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6047907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/huntinglily/pseuds/huntinglily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>sometimes you have to lose everything to find the one thing - or person - that matters</p>
<p>or the one where it's been 42 days since the war at Mount Weather, and both girls have completely lost themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lexa

**Author's Note:**

> This story begins 42 days after the war at Mount Weather/the season 2 finale.
> 
> It will focus on both Lexa and Clarke, switching between their points of views. On Lexa's end, it centers on her fight to forgive herself for what she's done to Clarke, as well as her determination to earn back Clarke's love. On Clarke's end, it centers on how she copes with the burden of what she has done, and how she learns to trust again after the ultimate betrayal. The story as a whole is a detailed look at how they find their way back to each other. The romance is slow-burn but guaranteed.
> 
> This is my first time posting on AO3, and it's my first fic for The 100. Any comments, feedback, kudos, critiques, and views in general are incredibly appreciated. Much love- Huntinglily

42 days.

42 days, 14 hours, 36 minutes, 17 seconds.

That’s how long it’s been.

* * *

 

42 days.

That’s how long it’s been since she was offered the deal at Mount Weather. The deal that she couldn’t imagine taking. The deal that she knew she couldn’t turn down.

* * *

 

_“Take it or leave it.”_

_Lexa looks into the steely eyes of the mountain man. She can see the beginning signs of a smirk quivering on his upper lip, like he already knows what her answer will be and it pleases him._

_"You know it’s the right choice for your people.”_

_He’s right; she does know. Only a fool wouldn’t take a deal like this. Only a fool would turn it down._

_She tries to look into his hard gaze as he stares her down but all she can see is flushed cheeks and blue eyes and hair the color of sunshine. All she can feel is soft lips and gentle hands and war-scarred skin. All she can hear is apologies and “not yet” and unspoken promises of a future._

_“Make your decision.”_

_Head over heart; a mantra that had been pounded into her head since she was a nothing more than a starry-eyed nightblood._

_That’s the way she’s lived her life. That’s the way it has always been and that’s the way it has to be._

_“Well?”_

_Lexa looks at him. She loathes his smirk but she loathes herself more._

_A single nod, “Fine.”_

_The smirk grows into a reptilian smile._

_“You’re doing the right thing, you know.”_

_Her gaze is steady as she replies; “Only a fool would walk away from this deal.”_

_He shakes her hand as he agrees, “Only a fool.”_

* * *

 

42 days.

That’s how long it’s been since she lost the ability, the right, to gaze into eyes that were deeper and bluer than the sea; eyes that were filled with more tears than raindrops in a hurricane after finding out what Lexa had done.

* * *

 

_“What is this?”_

_Clarke’s tone is laced with confusion; her eyes are wary as she scans the mountain man at Lexa’s side._

_At that moment, grounders begin to spill out of the double doors._

_“They’re surrendering,” the sky girl says in awe._

_For a brief moment, there’s a spark of hope in Clarke’s eyes, and it’s almost enough to make Lexa back down on the deal._

_Almost._

_“Not quite.”_

_Clarke’s eyes flicker back to the mountain man, the infuriating smirk gracing his lips once again. He glances at Lexa and she looks back for a fraction of a second before turning her gaze to Clarke, who watches the exchange with an unspoken question playing on her features. After a heartbeat, it finally seems to hit her that something isn’t right, and Lexa sees fear flood her eyes like water from a broken damn._

_“What did you do?”_

_The confusion in Clarke’s voice has turned to dread._

_**Head over heart. Head over heart. Head over heart.** _

_“What you would have done. Save my people.”_

_Clarke’s chest visibly heaves and Lexa has to force herself to stand her ground. She can’t break. Not now._

_"Where are **my** people?”_

_The question is loaded and Clarke’s aim is spot-on._

_**Head over heart. Head over heart. Head over heart.** _

_“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa forces the words out of her mouth, “They weren’t part of the deal.”_

_Clarke blinks and there’s so much emotion swirling in her eyes that it’s physically hard for Lexa to breathe. Clarke’s face is an open-book that she knows all too well how to read – anger, betrayal of trust, complete and utter heartbreak._

_Lexa turns to the mountain man out of pure need to look somewhere else, anywhere but Clarke’s eyes, but it’s a mistake because now all she can see is that horrible smirk and it’s making her feel sick to her stomach._

_“You made the right choice, Commander.”_

_Clarke looks at Lexa as the mountain man turns away from them. Lexa almost doesn’t want him to go; not if it means she’ll be left standing alone to face what she’s done._

_Clarke’s eyes are glittering with unshed tears that Lexa knows the girl won’t allow to fall. As more grounders continue to pour out of the mountain, Lincoln approaches Clarke with obvious caution and confusion. He takes one glance at her expression and turns to Lexa, a knowing and accusatory anger already in his eyes._

_“What is this?”_

_Clarke’s eyes never leave Lexa as she says, “Your commander’s made a deal.”_

_Lexa stares her down, using every single ounce of willpower in her body to remain stoic._

_Lincoln’s voice comes again, “What about the prisoners from the arc?”_

_For the first time, Clarke’s voice wavers, “They’ll all be killed.” Lexa swallows hard. “But you don’t care about that, do you?”_

_“I do care, Clarke,” Lexa hisses, knowing there’s only one thing left to say, “But I made this choice with my head and not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first.”_

_Clarke shakes her head and this time her tone is desperate as she chokes out, “Please don’t do this.” She takes a step forward and it’s everything Lexa can to do keep her emotions in check._

_“I’m sorry, Clarke,” she whispers._

_“Commander, not like this. Let us fight,” Lincoln protests._

_“No,” she cuts him off firmly, “The deal is done.”_

_As if on cue, the doors to the mountain suddenly close. Lexa turns her head to avoid Clarke’s gaze and nods to one of her warriors, “Sound the retreat.”_

_The warrior blows his horn and the grounder army immediately starts to move towards the woods and away from Mount Weather._

_“You too,” Lexa orders Lincoln, “All our people withdraw. Those are the terms.”_

_“They’ll be slaughtered. Let me help them,” he pleads._

_Lexa stares into his eyes and commands her warriors, “Take him.”_

_Clarke’s gaze flies to Lincoln, who pauses for two seconds before punching one of the men that moves to grab him. But his attempt to take out the second one fails as two more warriors pounce on him, taking his arms and dragging him away._

_Clarke’s face is contorted with pain and it shatters Lexa’s heart. She knows without question that this is the last time she will see Clarke. Even if the sky girl survives, and somehow Lexa knows she will, she also knows that she’ll never see this version of Clarke, **her** Clarke, again._

_She knows without question that Clarke will never be able to forgive her._

_“May we meet again,” she whispers, gazing into Clarke’s heartbroken eyes one last time before turning her back on the girl she loves._

_Head over heart; the way it has always been and the way it has to be._

* * *

 

42.

That’s many nights Lexa has sobbed until her throat is raw and she’s gasping for air. That’s how many nights she has cried to the point of utter exhaustion.

For 42 days, Indra has been very nearly forcing food and water down her throat, because Lexa has completely lost the desire to eat. By the fifth day of this behavior, Indra and Titus had set up a 24-hour watch duty, taking turns and making sure that Lexa was never completely alone. She sees the deep-rooted fear and concern in their eyes, and it just adds on to the guilt in her heart.

42 days of pretending to be fine. She wears a permanent mask to shield her emotions from her people. She holds her head high and speaks in quiet, reserved tones. She never, ever bends or breaks in front of them. She can’t.

42 sleepless nights have robbed her of her physical and mental health. The rare times that she does manage to doze off, her mind is plagued with hellish nightmares of golden hair that no longer shines, blue eyes that bleed tears of blood, and agonized screams of betrayal and heartbreak.

In all her life, she’s never had night terrors like these; not even after Costia.

42 days and she’s battling simply to survive.

She constantly thinks back to the conversation she had with Clarke before they kissed.

_“Maybe life should be about more than just surviving. Don’t we deserve better than that?”_

_“Maybe we do.”_

She had truly believed her response in the moment but that feeling was gone from her the second she saw the look on Clarke’s face after the sky girl had found out about Lexa’s deal with Emerson.

42 days.

Of course, 42 will only haunt her today. Tomorrow it will be 43. The day after that will be 44.

Lexa knows it won’t stop until she sees Clarke again.

* * *

 

On the 60th day after Mount Weather, Lexa is granted with her first semblance of relief.

* * *

“Heda, may we speak to you about something?”

Lexa regards Titus and Indra warily from where she sits on her throne. She’s not blind to the caution in Titus’ voice or the way Indra’s eyes flicker back and forth – a sign that Lexa has come to recognize over the years as nervousness.

She nods to the guards at the door, “Leave us.” They bow their heads respectfully before exiting the room and closing the doors behind them. She turns her gaze back to her two closest advisors, “Please, speak.”

Titus glances at Indra before clearing his throat, “Heda, are you aware of the legend of Wanheda?”

Lexa frowns slightly, “The commander of death?” Titus nods. “Yes. Why do you ask?”

"As a result of the events that occurred at Mount Weather, there has been much whispered talk that Clarke kom Skaikru is the Wanheda.”

Lexa’s heart stops.

 _Clarke_.

It’s the first time anyone has said the sky girl’s name to her since the mountain, and the sound of it falls on Lexa’s ears like something between a blessing and a curse.

“Clarke,” she breathes, “She’s alive?”

Titus nods, “She has been seen; she is alive.”

Indra gives Titus a stern glance. “Tell her the rest,” she says steadily.

Lexa snaps to attention, “The rest?”

Titus shoots Indra a harsh glare before composing himself and turning to Lexa, “Heda, I do not wish to alarm or upset you but it has been rumored that the Ice Nation is hunting down Wanheda.”

Lexa’s blood runs cold.

“ _Nia_ is looking for Clarke?” she whispers.

Indra nods, her dark eyes tinged with regret, “It would seem as though everyone is looking for her. You know the belief as well as I do, Heda. Kill someone, you get their power. Kill Wanheda…”

“You command death,” Lexa finishes, closing her eyes and letting it sink in. When she opens them again, the amount of concern on Titus’ face is almost comical.

“Heda, I am sorry that we did not tell you sooner but we wanted to be absolutely sure before—”

“It is done,” she cuts him off in a firm but gentle tone, “I appreciate your honesty, both of you.”

They nod to her respectfully as Indra says, “Heda, if there is anything you need after learning this information—”

“The prince,” Lexa says swiftly, her mind whirling, “I need to speak with Prince Roan. Have him brought here immediately.”

It’s obvious that Titus and Indra find her request strange but they both nod again.

“As you wish, Heda,” Titus says dutifully. “We will return shortly with the Azgeda prince.”

“Thank you,” she dips her head to them, “You two may leave me now.”

When they hesitate, she gives them a fraction of a smile – the most she’s done so since Mount Weather. Relief floods both of their expressions before they bow and leave her to her thoughts.

Lexa takes a deep breath and walks out onto the balcony. On the grounds below is Polis, ever-stirring with life. She can see traders and merchants, blacksmiths and guards. She can hear faint snatches of lilting conversations, in both English and Trigedasleng. There are children, her nightbloods, play-fighting in the trees; she hasn’t trained with them since returning from Mount Weather and she misses it.

The city, her city, gleams beneath the sun and for the first time in 60 days, Lexa feels like she can breathe.


	2. Clarke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the hits and kudos!
> 
> This is the first Clarke chapter; as stated in the fic summary, I will be alternating between her and Lexa. Her inner monologue is different than Lexa's - lengthier - but I think that style is more fitting for her.
> 
> Enjoy!

Too long.

Too god damn long.

That’s how long it’s been.

 

* * *

 

She has no idea what the official count is.

She never even attempted to keep track of how many days she’s been gone; of how many days it’s been since the last time she saw her.

* * *

 

_“It’s taking too long.”_

_Clarke paces over to where Lexa stands as still as a statue. They’ve been waiting at the doors to Mount Weather for what seems like hours, and Clarke is slowly starting to lose it._

_“Takes as long as it takes,” Lexa replies, and Clarke might have believed her had it not been for the way Lexa’s voice shook slightly as she spoke._

_They fall silent as Clarke quietly agonizes over what they’re doing – what they’re about to do. She’s been at war with herself over this decision for weeks and now that it’s about to happen, she has no idea how to handle it._

_“What will you do when it’s over?”_

_Lexa’s question cuts through Clarke’s frantic thoughts._

_She shakes her head and answers honestly, “I have no idea.”_

_Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Lexa look at her._

_“Well, what do you want?”_

_It’s a good question; one Clarke has been trying to answer for days._

_“Nothing,” she says, taking the easy route out. She turns her head to gaze at Lexa, “My people back.” But looking into Lexa’s eyes is a mistake, because suddenly all Clarke can see is the two of them kissing in Lexa’s tent and that is **so** not where she needs her thoughts to go right now. She turns back to the mountain as she mutters, more to herself than Lexa, “I can’t think past today.”_

_Lexa is quiet for a moment before Clarke hears her take a deep breath and blurt out, “You should come with me to the capital.”_

_Clarke looks over at her again and there’s an inscrutable emotion shining in Lexa’s eyes; one that makes Clarke’s heart skip a beat and her stomach clench._

_“Polis will change the way you think about us,” Lexa adds softly, her shy tone laced with promise and hope._

_For a heartbeat, Clarke gazes back at her and visions flash through her head – the two of them together in Polis; talking, laughing, sharing secret looks when no one is watching. A bright-eyed Lexa dragging Clarke around by her hand, determined to show her every inch of her beloved city, and Clarke not being able to resist the beautiful smile that dances unguarded on Lexa’s face._

_It’s everything she wants and everything she can’t have._

_Clarke knows they have to get through tonight before she can even begin to consider a future – not only one with Lexa but a future in general._

_So she answers simply, painfully, but truthfully._

_“You already have.”_

* * *

 

Surviving.

That’s what she’s been doing since she left.

Not living.

Surviving; the exact thing she told Lexa that they deserved better than.

 _Lexa_.

It’s disgusting how much Clarke still thinks about her, after what she did.

* * *

 

_“What is this?”_

_Clarke’s eyes fly back and forth between Lexa and Emerson, a million questions coursing through her brain, but before she can ask of them, a shout comes up from the crowd._

_“Hey, look! They’re coming out!”_

_Clarke whips around and watches in disbelief as grounders begin to stagger out of the mountain. Lexa’s warriors immediately begin to help them and for one brief, shining moment, hope flares in Clarke’s chest._

_She turns back to Lexa breathlessly, “They’re surrendering.”_

_But Emerson’s voice is all it takes for Clarke’s hope to shatter._

_“Not quite.”_

_She stares at him and he stares back, a cruel glint in his eyes. He turns to Lexa and smirks, and suddenly Clarke’s blood runs cold._

_She narrows her eyes, studying Lexa, and her breath catches in her throat; beneath the blood and war paint and stoic expression, there are unmistakable traces of guilt written all over the commander’s face._

_“What did you do?”_

_Lexa’s eyes are tinged with regret but there is no hesitation in her voice when she answers, “What you would have done. Save my people.”_

_Clarke’s lungs give out and her tone is deadly as she asks, “Where are **my** people?”_

_The underlying emotion in Lexa’s eyes roots Clarke to the ground as the commander says, “I’m sorry, Clarke.” Her voice grows hard, “They weren’t part of the deal.”_

_Clarke’s mouth opens but no sounds come out. She can’t move; she can’t breathe. All she can do is stand, frozen, and stare into Lexa’s eyes; anguished eyes that betray the stony mask Lexa wears on her face._

_“You made the right choice, Commander,” Emerson nods to her before walking away._

_Lexa looks as disgusted with Emerson as Clarke feels, and it’s almost enough to make Clarke think that maybe, **maybe** , Lexa has some kind of plan; some way to get them all out of this._

_But then Lexa turns and there’s a sense of finality to the way she’s looking at Clarke, like she’s about to say goodbye, and that’s when Clarke knows it’s over._

_Tears well up in her eyes as they gaze at each other but she blinks them away; refuses to let them fall, and she doesn’t move again until she feels Lincoln at her side._

_“What is this?”_

_Clarke’s eyes remain locked with Lexa’s._

_“Your commander’s made a deal.”_

_She watches with sick satisfaction as Lexa swallows._

_Lincoln’s voice drips with confusion, “What about the prisoners from the Ark?”_

_“They’ll all be killed,” Clarke says, her voice breaking, “But you don’t care about that, do you?”_

_“I do care, Clarke,” Lexa snaps, hurt flashing in her eyes, “But I made this choice with my head and not my heart. The duty to protect my people comes first.”_

_Clarke lets out a stuttering gasp as the force of Lexa’s words hits her chest. She shakes her head violently and steps forward, choking out her words in one last desperate attempt to change Lexa’s mind, “Please don’t do this.”_

_“I’m sorry, Clarke,” Lexa whispers, and Clarke’s heart shatters._

_“Commander, not like this. Let us fight,” Lincoln argues._

_“No,” Lexa cuts him off, and Clarke sees the moon reflected in her dark green eyes, “The deal is done._

_All three of them turn at the sound of the mountain doors closing._

_Lexa turns and barks out an order in Trigedasleng. At her command, one of her warriors blows a horn and the grounder army immediately begins to retreat into the woods, away from the mountain._

_“You, too,” Lexa nods to Lincoln, “All our people withdraw. Those are the terms.”_

_“They’ll be slaughtered, let me help them,” he begs, and Clarke knows he’s thinking of Octavia._

_Lexa stares him down before muttering another command, this time one that Clarke recognizes, “Take him.”_

_Two huge guards brush past Clarke and move to grab Lincoln. In a flurry of movements, he takes one out and is mid-punch on the second one when two more warriors knock him down and begin to drag him away._

_Clarke’s vision is blurred with tears as she’s forced to watch everything she worked for, everything she and Lexa worked for, fall apart._

_And there’s nothing, literally nothing, she can do to stop it from happening._

_She looks into Lexa’s war paint-covered eyes and sees her own pain reflected in them._

_She hates her._

_She **loves** her._

_“May we meet again,” Lexa whispers, before turning her back and walking away, taking Clarke’s shattered heart with her._

* * *

 

A long fucking time.

That’s how Clarke lables the amount of time she's been gone.

The days turn into nights turn into days turn into nights. She has no concept of time passing by; it all feels the same.

* * *

 

Her days are filled with silence.

She hunts; she’s actually pretty proud of how skilled she’s become in fending for herself. The first few days were hard, and it took her more than awhile to master the art of hunting. But it’s been weeks now and she no longer has any trouble finding food.

She walks. Staying in the same location for more than one or two nights isn’t safe so she does a lot of walking; a lot of wandering. She seeks out dark caves, hollow trees, nooks and crannies in the undergrowth of the forest. Her favorite rest stop by far was the cave she found hidden behind a waterfall. Lying in the dark and listening to the sound of rushing water was the closest thing she had felt to comfort since before Mount Weather. After delighting in the fact that she could not only drink but bathe, she allowed herself to stay at the waterfall cave for an excessive four nights before she forced herself to move on.

She climbs. After learning first-hand how important trees are to the grounders, she decided that learning how to climb would probably be a smart move. So she slowly familiarizes herself with the tall trees of the forest. She studies the bark, feels it beneath her fingers. She maps out the branches, committing them to memory, and in no time, she feels almost as comfortable in the trees as she does on the ground.

Her nights are filled with terror.

She hasn’t slept for more than a couple hours at a time since before the battle at Mount Weather.

She tries to blame it on her unfamiliar surroundings. After all, she sleeps in a new location almost every night, and who knows what – or who – might be hiding in the shadows?

She tries to blame it on the lack of blankets and bedding. When she left Camp Jaha, it’s not like she brought any supplies with her. But then again, who is she kidding? She hasn’t slept in a proper bed since she left the Ark. A blanket won’t do much to change the fact that she’s sleeping on the ground.

She even tries to blame it on the silence. Ever since the drop ship landed, Clarke has been constantly surrounded by noise. Talking, yelling, laughing, fighting, crying – whether she was in the drop ship camp or Camp Jaha or the grounders village, there was always something going on; some sort of noise that assured her she wasn’t alone. But she can’t really blame it on the silence either; not when the forest is full of howls and crickets and various other sounds of nature.

No, Clarke knows _exactly_ who’s to blame for her complete and utter lack of sleep.

It’s the same person who haunts her thoughts during the day.

It’s the same person who stars in her nightmares when she does manage to drift off.

It’s the same person who only her to die at Mount Weather and broke her heart in the process.

 _God_ , it’s disgusting how much she still cares.

* * *

 

_She’s running._

_Running, sprinting, scrambling towards a line of trees. Tall, dark trees._

_She’s panting and her lungs scream resistance as she runs as fast as she can. She doesn’t know what she’s running to or from; all she can feel is an incredible and overwhelming sense of panic and fear._

_Something appears at the edge of the tree line._

_No. Not something. Someone._

_As she gets closer to the figure, the details of who it is become clearer to her and suddenly, her heart slams against her chest._

_Lexa._

_Tall, dark, hauntingly beautiful; just like the trees. Face clear of war paint. Regal as ever._

_Clarke can hardly believe her eyes._

_“Lexa,” she breathes._

_Lexa’s lips lift up ever so slightly._

_“Clarke,” she says in the soft, reverent tone she always manages to use when she says Clarke’s name._

_“Yes,” Clarke nods, dazed, “What are you doing here?”_

_Lexa raises an eyebrow at her, “Waiting for you, of course. Come, Clarke. We have much to do.”_

_“Where are we going?”_

_“Away. Far away,” Lexa’s voice is a whisper and her green eyes are glowing, “Come with me, Clarke.”_

_She holds out a hand to her but when Clarke reaches out to take it, her hand goes right through Lexa’s._

_She pulls back, confused. Lexa stands there patiently with her hand outstretched but when Clarke tries to grab it again, the same thing happens._

_“Take my hand, Clarke.”_

_But as hard as she tries, Clarke’s fingers go straight through Lexa’s hand again and again and again._

_Lexa’s standing right in front of her but it’s like she’s nothing but a hologram._

_Nothing but a memory she’s trying to hold on to._

_“Lexa, what’s happening?” Clarke asks, tears of frustration starting to well up in her eyes, “Why can’t I touch you?”_

_“Because I’m not really here.”_

_Clarke looks up and gasps. Lexa’s face is covered in blood and smudged war paint, and the line of trees is gone, replaced by a looming mountain of dead bodies._

_“Lexa,” Clarke’s voices trembles. She surges forward but her body goes straight through Lexa’s and she stumbles, just barely catching herself from falling onto the bodies. “I don’t – I don’t understand.”_

_Lexa’s voice is a broken whisper, “May we meet again.”_

_“No! Lexa!” Clarke cries, as Lexa turns away and begins to walk into the darkness. Clarke tries to follow her but she can’t move; she looks at her feet and sees bloody chains holding her in place. Terror flares in her chest and she starts to hyperventilate, “Lexa, don’t go! Don’t leave me! I need you, please, you can’t leave me!”_

_“I’m sorry, Clarke,” comes Lexa’s voice out of the darkness. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”_

* * *

 

“Lexa!” Clarke shrieks, jolting into a sitting position. She looks around wildly at the cave she found earlier that night and reaches out a violently shaking hand to touch one of the rock walls.

Solid. Firm. Real.

Clarke covers her face and lets out a ragged sob, drawing her knees to her chest as she cries. She cries for the people at Mount Weather, whose lives she so mercilessly took. She cries for the people she left behind at Camp Jaha, perhaps at the time when they needed her most. She cries for the grounders that have lost so many of their people, and she cries for the Sky People, who have suffered the same.

But most of all, she cries for the girl with battle-scarred skin and lips stained with sacrifice; with braids in her hair and ghosts in her eyes, who cut out Clarke’s heart and left her to bleed.


End file.
